


You've Got The Key To My Handcuffs

by thelilacfield



Category: Glee
Genre: Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-28
Updated: 2012-11-28
Packaged: 2017-11-19 18:01:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/576102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelilacfield/pseuds/thelilacfield
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaine laughs and Kurt smiles down at him, reaching for the key where he left it. It's not there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You've Got The Key To My Handcuffs

You've Got The Key To My Handcuffs

Kurt collapses into the bed, panting raggedly and eyes fluttering as a rush of aftershocks spills through him. "Wow," he finally breathes.

"Wow indeed," Blaine says happily, sounding a little too pleased with himself. "That's the best sex we've had since-"

"Since Whitney week in glee, I know," Kurt finishes, mind spinning with the memory of pianos and squeaking beds and the busted springs. "It's the whole make-up sex thing."

"We're just awesome at make-up sex," Blaine sighs, and Kurt tries not to laugh at the bliss in his voice, how he sounds almost drunk on sex - not that Kurt would blame him.

"And you sound drunk, mister," he says, slapping Blaine's thigh lightly. "Come on, we've got time to shower together and make dinner before Rachel gets back to regale us with another scandal direct from the NYADA dorms." Blaine laughs and Kurt smiles down at him, reaching for the key where he left it.

It's not there.

"Kurt?" Blaine looks up at with wide, trusting eyes as Kurt lifts up and away from him, scanning the bare carpet desperately, eyeing the pile of their clothes on the ground. "Is something wrong?"

"Temporary setback," Kurt answers almost airily, shoving the discarded, crumpled clothes with his foot and biting his lip at the lack of any hard metal object in the pile. "I can't find the key."

"But there's a quick release thing on them, right?" Blaine asks desperately, the chain jangling loudly as he tugs experimentally. "No, wait, damn, there isn't. Tina did say when she found them it could be-"

"I don't even want to know how you managed to hide them in a place obvious enough that Tina managed to find them, or why she knows things about handcuffs," Kurt says, pulling a shirt and boxers on in case of visitors. Rachel said she wouldn't be back for two more hours, and Santana should be working the dinner shift until nine thirty, but who knows whether any of their friends might show up at the door.

"She just got back together with Mike and she wanted to talk about sex and she was going through my clothes trying to find sweater-vests to throw away for me and she found all my-"

"Please, honey, don't finish that sentence," Kurt says. "I don't even want to think about Tina knowing you have that drawer, never mind her actually thinking about using things in there. Do you know where we put the key?"

"I don't know, I wasn't really looking around where you put the key," Blaine answers, body and arms twisting as he tugs on the cuffs. "I'd offer to help you find it, but I'm kinda busy over here."

"Oh God, I've lost the key," Kurt says, whirling around with panic wild in his eyes, tugging at his hair in a haze of nerves. "Oh my God, I've got you handcuffed to the bed and we only just managed to get back together and the first time we have sex again I manage to get you handcuffed permanently to the bed and there's no way to get you out because there are sure as hell no pliers in this apartment and oh God, you're going to break up with me and-"

"Kurt, calm down over there," Blaine cuts in, looking over at him with so much concern in his eyes it makes Kurt feel even guiltier for locking him in. "I can't rub your back or kiss you right now, so don't have a complete panic attack. We'll find the key and get me out of here and everything's gonna be okay. And you know I would never break up with you. I couldn't."

"Please stop being so sweet and patient about this, I don't need to fall even more in love with you while I'm having a minor panic attack," Kurt pleads, making Blaine laugh as he slides the partition away and scans the floorboards for any tiny hint of silver. "Things never turn out like this in porn."

"Kurt Hummel, do you watch  _those_ movies now?" Blaine teases and Kurt groans, slamming the heel of his hand against his forehead at his boyfriend's sweet teasing.

"Santana has a large and mostly tasteful collection, and I may or may not have taken advantage of it," he says, trying to affect a haughty sniff and shrug. "…More than once."

"Which means?" Blaine asks, and Kurt wants to turn around and throw something at him for the teasing, suggestive note in his voice.

"My New Year's Eve celebrations were less drinking insanely expensive vintage champagne in the famous Motta mansion and more sitting alone in bed with the sound down low, drinking disgustingly cheap wine and pretending not to hear Rachel and Santana's beds creaking," Kurt supplies to loud laughter from Blaine. "Don't laugh at me, I'm panicking enough as it is." He shoves the partition aside, scanning the floor carefully, picking up their crumpled clothes and dumping them on the end of the bed.

The door slides open unexpectedly, and Kurt shrieks, whirling around to see Rachel standing in the doorway, her back to them as she hangs up her coat and scarf and toes off her shoes. He silently prays she'll go to the kitchen or something, cursing whatever changed to send her home early and catch them like this.

"What do we have here?!" she shouts, and he closes his eyes because it's too late to do anything now. "What did you two get up to while I was out? And why is Blaine still…oh God!" Kurt looks up to see the girl holding her purse over her face, stumbling blindly through the apartment. "I wasn't looking, Kurt, I swear!"

"That's not my concern right now," Kurt says, running to turn her away before she crashes into the bookcase. "Rachel, have you seen a small silver key anywhere?"

"Kurt," Blaine calls weakly, a blush spreading from his face down his neck and chest. "I don't want to worry you any more right now, but could you please cover me up somehow?" Kurt flushes brightly and tugs the duvet over Blaine, rubbing over the red welts on his wrists from tugging on the handcuffs and biting his lip.

"You mean this key?" Peeking nervously out from between her fingers, Rachel rummages through her purse and unearths the very key Kurt's been desperately looking for. "It slipped out from under your partition and I thought it was the door key and I've lost mine so I took it. Sorry about that."

"I hate you sometimes," Kurt growls, grabbing it from her hand and unlocking the handcuffs, sighing in relief as they fall away from Blaine's wrists and he can take his hands, massaging the welts on Blaine's wrists and up where the stretch must've strained his muscles. "Are you okay, honey?"

"More than okay," Blaine says, eyes shining. Kurt smiles and brings Blaine's wrist to his mouth, kissing slowly and delicately around the vivid marks, mouth and tongue gentle and flickering against the abused flesh. "Mm, keep doing that."

Kurt grins and complies with his boyfriend's request, soothing the red patches with the slow drag of his tongue and the soft wet sounds of his lips. Now the panic is over and Blaine can move with him again, he's suddenly struck by what he's done, how the marks will stay on Blaine's wrists for a long time. Knowing it, knowing their reunion sex has left such a lasting impression on Blaine's body, is a little bit hot.

"I see we're going out for round two already," Blaine observes teasingly, pointedly rolling his hips up, making Kurt arch and whimper softly, eyes rolling back in his head.

Okay, it's extremely hot.

"I'm going out again," Rachel says, blurrily noticeable. "Maybe I'll go drop by Santana at work, tell her all about your little predicament with the misplaced key."

"Don't you dare, Rachel Berry!" Kurt shouts. "I'll burn all the awards you got for shows before the age of eight, I swear I will!"

"Your turn to do the laundry or I tell Santana everything!" Rachel yells back.

Kurt smirks and leans down over Blaine, curling his fingers through the hem of his shirt and pulling it over his head, not missing the way Blaine licks his lips as he throws the garment somewhere into the nooks and crannies of the apartment. "There's something on my private bucket list that we seem to have the perfect opportunity for," he says silkily. "How would you feel about sex on a running washing machine, Blaine?"

Blaine groans happily and drags him down for a kiss.


End file.
